


regift (my heart)

by bs13



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: AUs all day everyday, F/F, and random sarah being rude, its mostly gay mess cosima stressing over her hot coworker, look another christmas themed cophine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bs13/pseuds/bs13
Summary: Cosima hates her work's Secret Santa exchange. It's stressful, rather discriminative of other holidays, and just really, really stupid. And no, she isn't saying that just because she drew Delphine Cormier's name this year. It's not like that's a big deal, drawing the name of your longtime work crush. (Except it is, and she's screwed.)





	

On December 1st, in an email timestamped from the night before, Cosima reads the only two words that have been her constant downfall around the holiday season: Secret Santa.

There come a series of groans from the cubicles around her as people start logging in to their computers and finding the email just as Cosima did. But rather than dwell, most ignore it and go on. Some, however, don't.

Exhibit A—Sarah Manning, the scruffy punk-rock wannabe whose cubicle is to the left of Cosima's, yells out, "Oi, Alison! Why're you sending us this crap again?"

Alison Hendrix briskly emerges from her own cubicle, toting a pink clipboard and a scowl. " _Sarah_ ," she hisses, "that's one for the swear jar."

"Forget your fuckin' swear jar, what the hell are you doing? Rachel can't be allowing this shit."

"Three for the swear jar," Alison huffs, and she reaches into the white handbag on her shoulder and produces a pink paper-bound mason jar that Sarah rolls her eyes at (and drops three quarters in). "And as a matter of fact, Rachel approved my Secret Santa plan herself. She quite enjoyed it the past few years we've done it."

At that, Cosima rolls her eyes. Of course _Rachel_ has enjoyed it; no one would dare to give their boss a cheap or tasteless gift. Everyone else in the office, however, is so overworked that giving out gifts to people they hardly know isn't a top priority. Aka, everything sucks and it adds unnecessary stress they don't need.

"Don't tell me," Sarah gripes. "It's _mandatory_."

Alison, of course, beams in response. "I already have the hat," she says proudly, and she reaches back into her infernal bag to pull out a Santa cap chock-full of evenly-cut white paper strips. Alison is just too efficient sometimes.

Cosima pulls up the latest report she's been working on, but finds that her mind keeps going back to that damn Secret Santa. It's only been around for three years, since they hired Alison and she took it to be her mission to bring back holiday cheer into the office. (Cosima thinks it's entirely discriminative of other holidays to focus on _Christmas_ of all things, but conveniently, Alison overlooks that.)

And that's not mentioning the fact that the past three years have been _awful_. The first year, Cosima drew the name of Helena, Sarah Manning's twin sister, and had had to splurge on expensive Ukrainian sweets because Helena wouldn't want any others (according to Sarah, anyway). Sarah had been Cosima's Secret Santa, and all she'd given was the promise to not play her punk rock music loudly anymore. Which she hadn't delivered on. And still hasn't to this day.

The second year, Cosima drew her ex-girlfriend's name. She and Emi had had a relatively tame breakup, but the second she gave Emi a personalized keychain of a microphone—since Emi _is_ in a band—Emi had accused Cosima of trying to win her back, and Cosima had quickly assured her she wasn't, which just ended in a lot of tears. And Emi not speaking to her for weeks. (Plus, Cosima's Secret Santa was some girl named Jennifer who just gave her boxed soap. Every. Single. Day. It wasn't very nice soap either.)

The third year, Cosima drew Donnie Hendrix's name. As Alison's husband, he was just as involved as she was (albeit begrudgingly), but he didn't quite receive the porn Cosima'd gotten him as well as she hoped. Neither did Alison, who went after Cosima with a long-winding talk about God and adultery until Cosima had yelled, quite loudly, that she was a lesbian and had only gotten the porn as a _joke_ (and as a dare from Felix Dawkins, Sarah's brother, but she'll take that to the grave).

Also, yeah, that year Krystal Goderitch was Cosima's Secret Santa. Her idea of good gifts were various smoothie recipes and about five pounds of kale, as well as a promise to take Cosima in for a free nail salon appointment someday. (Suffice to say Cosima never took her up on it.)

So forgive that Cosima isn't jumping for joy when Alison slides into her cubicle next, hat wide enough to see all the names jumbled in. "Time to pick!" she announces in her enthusiastic voice, the only one that comes out whenever she gets her way (or when it's time for karaoke at an office party). "Remember, there is no trading of names allowed. Gifts shouldn't exceed twenty dollars in value. And don't forget—gifts will be left all week leading up to the office party, so no revealing who you got early!"

Cosima fakes a smile and quickly plucks a name out of the hat, stopping to read it because she knows the rules and can't be allowed to have her own name. But instead of the past years, in which she'd just given Alison the go-ahead to move on and slipped the paper into her purse, she chokes. On air.

" _Fuck_ ," Cosima says before she can stop herself, the name taunting her in big, block letters: _Delphine Cormier._

Everyone knows Delphine Cormier. She's a new transfer from the Canadian office, the woman Sarah swears must've banged her way to the top. But Cosima's been pretty much crushing since Delphine had wandered into the break room, talking in French over the phone to her then-boyfriend, and had nearly stumbled over a chair in the process. Cosima knows how red Delphine's cheeks get when she blushes, how gentle yet firm her hands are when it comes to a handshake, how soft her smiles are as she and Cosima pass each other and say hello sometimes.

Cosima has it pretty fucking bad, and the universe is revealed to seriously hate her.

" _Cosima_ ," Alison clucks at that moment, bringing her to reality, "that's one for the swear jar."

Cosima groans.

.

.

.

"I got bloody _Rachel_ ," are the first words out of Felix's mouth as he, Sarah, Cosima and two other coworkers of theirs—Beth Childs and Art Bell—sit down in the break room for lunch.

Cosima winces. "Aw, man. That sucks."

Sarah, as she struggles to heat up a Hot Pocket, just _laughs_. "Ha! Good luck with that one, you twat," she jabs happily. "That's fucking hilarious. You, kissing up to bitch Rachel."

"Hey, come on, this is a monitored room," Beth protests, but then Art slides her half of a messy brownie to distract her and she gladly takes a bite. "Did your daughter make this?" she asks fondly, no doubt remembering the little girl she's met numerous times before.

"Yeah. Nearly burned down the kitchen, too," Art says, and Beth snickers and breaks off a piece for Cosima too.

"Who'd the rest of you idiots get?" Sarah asks a minute later, mouth full of (half-frozen) Hot Pocket. "I got Cal, thank God. Now I don't have to buy him anything."

"The whole point of Secret Santa is gift giving," Felix says, rolling his eyes. "It's not a time for your baby daddy drama."

Sarah whacks his arm hard, which makes Felix yelp in hurt. "Keep it _down_. No one's supposed to know yet," Sarah snaps. "And he's lucky I even give him the time of day, let alone some fucking mug wrapped in paper or something lame."

Art frowns. "You told me you liked the mug," he mutters into his salad, which of course just makes Beth snort with laughter.

"I got Tony," Beth says a moment later, pulling out her own lunch and evenly spreading out a sandwich to redress with condiments she steals from Art's lunch bag. "You know, the cool guy who works a floor below? I feel like he could chill with Cosima."

Art steals his mayonnaise packet back and says, "You know, this _is_ supposed to be a secret. Since it's called 'Secret Santa' and all."

"What? Not get your girlfriend's name this year either?" Sarah taunts, which just makes Art ball up a napkin and throw it at Sarah's head (because it's a low blow, which Beth thankfully doesn't catch; for all she knows, Art's crushing on Krystal).

"I got Delphine," Cosima says, if just to distract the conversation from Art's painfully obvious love for Beth.

"Blondie?" Sarah scoffs. "Good luck with Leekie's own personal bed warmer."

"Can you stop calling her that? You have no proof she's sleeping with him!" Cosima says hotly.

"Monitored room," Beth repeats into her sandwich, but no one listens.

"Cosima, darling." Felix reaches over to pat Cosima's hand sympathetically. "It's definitely not a secret. I'm ashamed it's taken you so long to notice."

"Plus, Helena saw Leekie planting one on her in the supply closet a while ago," Sarah snorts. "If they wanted to hide it, they're doing a shite job."

"Oh." Cosima deflates. She honestly hadn't known; the office gossip seems to go over her head. This poses a whole new problem, because how is she supposed to compete with the boss's second-in-command? Not, of course, that she's aiming to compete. She stays far, far away from girls in relationships. Mostly.

"Don't worry, Cos," Sarah adds. "She'd never go for you anyway."

"...thanks, Sarah. That's so nice of you to say."

.

.

.

Secret Santa doesn't start for a week, and already Cosima is hyperaware of Delphine's presence.

Well. It's not exactly like that. She's _always_ been hyperaware of Delphine's presence, but somehow when she sees Delphine walk into the break room all Cosima does is spill hot coffee all over her own hand like a loser. _Fuck_.

"Salut, Cosima," Delphine says as she walks in, unaware of Cosima's predicament.

"H-hey, Delphine," Cosima replies, gripping her burned palm and fighting hard not to swear like a sailor and dash to the sink right away to pour water over it. Instead, she walks very carefully over to the sink and casually sticks her hand under the rushing water like nothing's happened.

Delphine is thankfully more occupied with pouring herself a cup of coffee anyway. "Did we run out of sugar?" she asks, peeking into the bowl that usually holds the sugar packets.

"Yeah, um, Felix...went to go see about that," Cosima lies. (Felix had actually stolen the last ten packets and poured each one into his cup, like a madman with a death wish, because Helena hasn't even seen the state of the sugar bowl yet.)

"Hmm." Delphine doesn't say much after that, just takes her coffee black and sips as if nothing (which Cosima can't _stand_ to do; she'll take all the milk she wants, thanks). "Did you get your name?"

"What?" Cosima's thinking of her _own_ name, and is about to remark something about how she'd gotten it at birth, but then Delphine clarifies,

"Your Secret Santa name."

"Oh! Yeah." Cosima winces at how eager that sounded. "It's generally not my thing, the whole...Christmas. Uh, thing."

"You are an atheist?" Delphine inquires, looking quite interested, and fuck that's the most painful thing about this whole crush; Delphine is too _nice_ , and sometimes that's too much for Cosima's weak gay heart.

"Um, not exactly? I was raised Christian or whatever, but I don't, like, really do the whole celebrating stuff," Cosima says, waving her (uninjured) hand in a blasé manner. "I'm not a big faith person either. You know. I'm a more science-orientated kind of girl."

"Me too," Delphine agrees. "Though I have always loved Christmas. I think this is a really nice thing for Alison to do."

"Right. Yeah, I think so too," is what comes next out of Cosima's traitorous mouth, because she can't possibly just admit that she thinks it's stupid when Delphine doesn't feel the same way.

At that moment, Helena comes into the break room, instantly zeroing in on the empty sugar bowl. Cosima grimaces at the murderous look that Helena instantly dons.

"Who is the meaning of this?" Helena demands in her broken English, eyeing Delphine suspiciously.

Cosima just sighs and betrays Felix's name, then exits the break room to go to her desk, ignoring her smarting hand. (Her only consolation is that Felix will feel much worse after Helena gets to him.)

.

.

.

The first gift Cosima decides on is a small box of cookies. Everyone likes cookies, right? Christmas cookies are a safe bet. So she bakes them herself, in Sarah's small excuse for a kitchen, and even lets Helena frost them with her. Helena eats a few, as expected, and dons a rather dreamy-eyed look after the first taste.

Cosima counts that as a victory. Or maybe not, considering Helena eats sardines with mustard and genuinely enjoys that. Either way, Cosima packs up the cookies in a cute little box to make the gift even nicer, and gets to work twenty minutes earlier than usual because Delphine usually rolls around at the same time Cosima does. (Which Cosima would know. Pathetic.)

Scott, at the other side of Cosima's cubicle (the Sarah-less side), is already there too. "You just drop off your Secret Santa gift?" he asks in that nervous, five-cats-at-home kind of way of his.

"Yeah. You?" Cosima says, dropping her bag onto her desk.

Scott nods. "Hey, do you want to come to a Dungeons and Dragons game tomorrow? My friends loved you."

"Your friends love girls who say two words to them," Cosima snorts. "But sure thing, Scotty. I'd love to beat all your friends again."

Sarah chooses that moment to stride in, boots scraping against the carpeted floor and bag swinging dangerously low on her arm. She looks like shit, likely because she's given up caffeine since she found out she was pregnant.

"Why are you two here so early?" Sarah grumbles, not caring for a reply as she drops down into her chair. There's a small gift waiting for Sarah on her desk already, and she rips into it to find a jar full of candy canes; she makes a disgusted face. "Toothpaste flavored lollies? What the fuck?"

"Candy canes," Cosima corrects, and she gladly accepts the jar as Sarah thrusts it into her hands in distaste.

"Oi," Sarah says, as if just remembering, "what were you and Helena doing yesterday?"

"Just making cookies," Cosima answers, occupied with unwrapping a candy cane and handing one to Scott at the same time.

Sarah rolls her eyes. "You two are bloody mental," she mutters. "Using salt for biscuits."

At that, Cosima nearly chokes on her candy cane she's just put in her mouth. "What?" she croaks.

"Your shitty baking," Sarah says. "Helena jumps in my bed at two in the morning with a stash of crumbs in her hands going 'look what Cosima did' and shoving them in my mouth. It was like eating the fucking ocean in crumb form, I swear..."

Cosima's mouth falls open. Sarah _does_ keep her salt and sugar in plastic, see-through bags, but Cosima had chosen the bag three times the size of the other bag without actually checking to see if it was sugar. She'd just _assumed_ , because—

"Why do you have so much salt?!" Cosima explodes.

Sarah stops mid-story with a frown. "Helena loves it," she says like it's self-explanatory, and Cosima wants to faint.

"I gave Delphine salty cookies," she whispers to herself, horrified, and buries her face in her hands.

Sarah scrunches her nose in confusion. "Is that some lesbian term?"

(Cosima drops her head on her desk and agonizes over her failure for the rest of the day. She only realizes when she's left work that she didn't even get a gift herself.)

.

.

.

The next day, Cosima leaves an array of chrysanthemums on Delphine's desk. She also leaves a little note that reads "sorry about the cookies yesterday!" and draws a little smiley face on the Post-It note, then quickly ducks back to her desk again. Sarah, to Cosima's surprise, is already sitting in her own cubicle, shifting through a bag on her desk.

"Hey, you're here early," Cosima says, but Sarah ignores her.

"What the fuck's this?" Sarah asks once she pulls the gift out of the bag, wearily eyeing what seems to be a microscope-shaped paperweight topped with a little red bow. "Is this some kind of joke? Is this a toy?"

"It's for decorative purposes," Cosima corrects her, because apparently Sarah has never seen a paperweight in her life. "And I think it's cute! Look at the little focus knob. It's so accurate."

"It's lame is what it is." Sarah thrusts that, much like yesterday's gift, in Cosima's hands. "You can keep it."

Cosima hesitates. "But isn't that rude? Your Secret Santa will notice if it's on my desk instead of yours."

"So?" Sarah rolls her eyes and turns back to her desk, frowning at what seems to be a sticker of a snowman on her nameplate. "Dammit, Helena keeps leaving stickers all over my desk." She peels off the snowman obstructing her name only to find an ornament sticker underneath, at which she frowns and leaves be, annoyed.

Cosima snickers, because of course Helena would. She is just turning around to start up her slow-ass computer (that Rachel won't replace) when Felix comes running up, fashion scarf askew and cheeks flushed from outside.

"Oi, Cos," he whispers loudly. "You're Cormier's Secret Santa, aren't ya?"

"Yeah," Cosima says absentmindedly as her computer honest-to-God _whirrs_. She doesn't even think it has the capability to do that.

"Did you give her those Christmas-flower things as a gift?" Felix looks torn between gleeful and horrified as Cosima hums in affirmation. "Holy shite, she's real allergic. Screamed real loud when she saw them on her desk."

" _What_?" Cosima rockets out of her chair. "I—I didn't know!"

"It's hilarious, innit?" Felix grins.

"No?!" Cosima, terrified, blindly tries to rush past him. She's too young to be charged with manslaughter! And too gay to mourn the death of her hot French coworker!

Felix grasps her elbow before she can get past. "Hey, hold on! Where do you think you're going?"

"To check on her! I put her in the hospital!" Cosima exclaims.

Sarah snickers. "Great story to tell your kids someday," she offers unhelpfully.

"Cos, no, Cormier's alright," Felix assures her. "Just had a scare, is all. She went home already—Rachel gave her the day off."

" _Rachel_ gave her the day off?"

"Well, Aldous Leekie probably batted his eyelids some..."

"Gross," Sarah mutters.

Cosima tactfully ignores the Leekie part (she is _not_ jealous, okay). "So I didn't put her in the hospital?"

"No, you got her a day off of work," Felix jokes, but he clearly must sense that Cosima feels awful, because he adds, "Don't worry, it was nothing serious. If anything, I think the most you did was give her a rash."

Sarah snorts. "Fuck, if you even charm Cormier enough to get some kids," she says (in a way that indicates she thinks it's more likely Felix will turn straight), "I'm telling them that story myself.

Feeling only slightly less horrified, Cosima takes a moment to consider a possible reality of Sarah Manning around her hypothetical kids. And then she feels worse.

"...your stickers are stupid," grumbles Cosima, and she turns back to her computer.

.

.

.

Cosima has a whole essay typed out. It reads with varying levels of "I didn't know you were allergic to chrysanthemums holy shit I'm so sorry" and "I swear I am not trying to make you hate me" and "holy shit please don't hate me." She leaves that in a sealed envelope, along with a store-bought tin of Christmas chocolates (so there's hopefully no room for error) and a single red rose (which she'd opted for because she's still a hopeless romantic).

She then goes into the break room since she isn't on the clock yet, and because coffee should help the too-early-to-be-in-the-office insanity. Helena's already there, pouring at least half the sugar packets from the bowl into her cup, looking like a pleased five-year-old (and it doesn't help that she has a snowflake sticker on her forehead, either).

"Hello Cosima," greets Helena cheerfully. "There is sugar."

"Thankfully," Cosima sighs. "How's your Secret Santa going?"

Helena doesn't say a word, just takes a long sip of what's likely to be just a cup of hot water and sugar, her red-rimmed eyes trained on Cosima over the rim of her cup. When it's clear that Helena is not going to speak—and likely will keep staring—Cosima turns away and gets herself a cup of coffee in uncomfortable silence.

A gentle touch on her elbow startles her. There's _Delphine_ , smiling apologetically and reaching for a mug Cosima is obstructing.

"Excuse me, Cosima," she says, her smile staying strong.

Cosima blinks dumbly at the sight of Delphine for almost a full minute. Delphine looks as she usually does: pressed black suit, straight blond hair, perfectly fixed lipstick on her mouth. And like she didn't almost die yesterday.

Cosima coughs, finding her voice. "Delphine," she says weakly. "I heard about yesterday. I, uh, didn't think you would be here."

"Oh, you know the—" Delphine pauses, furrows her brow. "Office gossip? Is that a term?" _Goddammit her French accent_. "Well, they exaggerate. I was quite alright; it was just a shock."

"Still," Cosima laughs shakily, "that must've been...a shitty morning."

Delphine shrugs, smile softening around the edges like she's not thought about it like that. "It is the thought that counts," she settles to say. "Those flowers _are_ very beautiful."

"Right." Cosima nervously fiddles with the edge of her sweater, picking up her cup of coffee so Delphine can make her own. Then, because her mouth works on its own accord, she blurts out, "You're here early! Not that, um, I notice, but—"

"Yes," Delphine sighs, with a hint of her smile lingering. _Goddammit her smile_. "You are here early too."

"...uh, yeah, you know...Secret Santa stuff," Cosima divulges, then immediately regrets it. _Secret. It's supposed to be secret._

"Ah yes, I came early for the same reason," Delphine chuckles. "I suppose that was maybe Rachel's plan all along."

Cosima nods in agreement, taking a quick sip of her coffee as she tries (and fails) to think of some way to keep the conversation going. Helena isn't helping any; all she does is keep staring at Cosima, then at Delphine, and narrowing her eyes at the back of the latter like she's realized something.

"So how is your secret santa going?" Cosima asks, shifting her eyes away from Helena's weird murderous glare. "Your gift giving going well?"

Delphine raises her mug to her lips, but pauses at the last minute. "I'd hope so," she says, vague in a way Cosima doesn't understand. "I have no way of knowing, so..."

"Right," replies Cosima. _That was a stupid question_. "But uh, guess whoever you've got is lucky. I haven't gotten a single gift yet, so, file this under one of the shittiest years yet."

But even though Cosima laughs awkwardly at her own joke, Delphine doesn't join in (and she usually politely laughs at whatever lame jokes Cosima makes). In fact, she _frowns_.

"You haven't?" her tone is questioning, but more like she's speaking to herself. "That's—" she blinks to reality, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she meets Cosima's eyes. "I'm sorry, Cosima, that is very...um, shitty. Excuse me." Then with a forced smile, she's gone, leaving her full mug of coffee behind.

"Okay, uh, bye," Cosima says to the empty room.

A snicker sounds. Then, "She is silly, your French."

Right, an empty room and _Helena_. Cosima just groans and swallows the rest of her coffee in two gulps, then heads out to see if Sarah's showed up yet.

The back of Sarah's head seems to be nearly fully enveloped by her desk drawers as Cosima walks up. "Hey Cos," Sarah says, voice muffled as she briefly looks up. "Left ya something on your desk."

Cosima picks up what looks like a shredded envelope (does Sarah not know how to open one?) with a card inside. It's a simple Christmas card, signed off with a cursive "happy holidays" and a gift card to the coffee shop three doors down from the office.

"Is this...regifted?" Cosima questions.

"'Course it is." Sarah finally sticks her full head up. "I can't drink coffee anymore, Helena hates coffee, and Felix stole half my lunch yesterday so he doesn't deserve it. You were next best."

"And your secret santa got you this?"

"Well it wasn't a gift from my landlord," Sarah quips before dipping her head down again.

Cosima slips the card in her pocket anyway. She starts booting up her computer, resigning herself to another shitty day at work, but then out of the corner of her eye she spots Delphine walk past to go talk to someone three cubicles down. In Delphine's hand _is the rose Cosima gave her_ , just casually tucked in the crook of her arm along with the paperwork she's likely delivering.

(So maybe not so shitty.)

.

.

.

Disaster strikes with Felix's phone call.

" _Please_?" Felix begs as Cosima unlocks the office door with her key card, shouldering the door as she balances both her purse and Delphine's gift (a snow globe with a snowman wearing a lab coat in, which is super cute in Cosima's opinion).

"Fine, I'll do it," Cosima mutters. "But if Rachel catches me, you're going down with me."

" _Oh dear God, thank you_."

"Yeah, whatever." Cosima moves to the elevator to get to her floor. "You said you left Rachel's next gift in your desk?"

" _Yes, in the second drawer_."

"Alright, let me drop of Delphine's gift and I'll get to yours," Cosima sighs.

" _You're a lifesaver, Cos. I promise, drinks on me next time_."

"I'm holding you to that," warns Cosima before Felix hastily hangs up. The elevator is taking three years to come, so Cosima finally sighs, gives up, and decides to walk the three flights up to her floor.

She's just reaching the door when it flings open and Cosima is knocked to the ground. The snow globe slips out of her fingers and hits the floor with an audible _crash_ , and then Cosima's only tether to reality dissolves into a puddle of water, glass, and glitter. Meanwhile, a heavy weight pins Cosima to the ground, and the back of her head hits the ground very, _very_ hard. So hard, in fact, that her glasses nearly slip off her face.

"Cosima!" shouts a vaguely familiar voice in alarm. The other body scrambles off of her, taking a familiar scent of—flowers? Some flower, certainly. Lavender, maybe. Then soft hands are cradling Cosima's face, removing her glasses, and Cosima finally opens her eyes.

Huh. There are two Delphines kneeling before her.

Cosima tilts her head up, smiling dumbly. "I didn't know you had a twin."

"What?" both Delphines say. "How many fingers am I holding up?" She raises both hands. No...four hands.

Cosima tries to count twice but gives up each time. "Four?" she guesses.

There is a crease between Delphine's eyes that Cosima wants to smooth away, and then Delphine's mouth sets in a grim line so scary that Cosima doesn't want to ever see again.

"I will call an ambulance," Delphine decides. "Can you sit up?"

Cosima blinks. "You're...really pretty."

For a moment, Delphine's cheeks flare red. "Cosima, you do know who I am, don't you?"

"Yeah," Cosima says, her tongue heavy in her mouth. "Sarah says you're sleeping with Leekie, but I don't believe her. She's—she keeps giving me her secret santa gifts, because she's sort of rude."

Delphine frowns now, likely because of the Leekie comment, but Cosima's muddled mind takes it to mean because of the whole Sarah-giving-her-gifts-away.

"Right?" Cosima sighs, head shifting sideways. "It's really rude. But I liked the microscope paper...paper thing. That was cute."

Delphine looks puzzled. "You..." she trails off, shakes her head, and reaches for Cosima's shoulders. "I am going to sit you up. Can you try and help?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good. One, two, three, up!" Delphine manages to tug Cosima upright, but Cosima grips onto Delphine's suit jacket to keep from falling back.

"You smell nice," Cosima murmurs, her head dropping on Delphine's shoulder, but she jerks away in a second. "I—I mean you don't! You smell gross! I didn't smell you!"

Delphine doesn't reply; she's too busy dialing 911. She is already talking to an operator when Cosima risks dropping her head back on Delphine's shoulder. Her eyes are heavy, and she's _tired_ , and Delphine really _does_ smell nice.

"Cosima? Cosima, do not fall asleep. Keep your eyes open," Delphine fusses a moment later, taking Cosima's face in her hands again.

Cosima sinks into the touch, a goofy smile overtaking her lips. "I like your face," she whispers, eyes blinking open.

"Okay. Keep looking at me." Delphine's eyes are worried, darting over every bit of Cosima's face. "You are not bleeding, but I fear you may be concussed. I am going to get you to a hospital, alright?"

"But Rachel's gift...I have to give her a gift..." Cosima's eyelids feel like lead. "Felix will be dead, and then you won't get a gift either because it fell..."

"I will give Rachel Felix's gift," Delphine says calmly. "Do you think you can walk outside to wait for the ambulance?"

"Your gift, though. It fell. And it was a cute snow-thing, with a little lab coat because you said you like science." Cosima tilts her head, eyes briefly widening. "I'm not supposed to tell you this."

"I am going to get someone to help," Delphine says softly, and she brushes some of the baby hairs that always escape Cosima's ponytail out of her face.

Cosima's grip tightens. "Don't leave."

"I won't." Delphine's hands move to Cosima's shoulders, holding her up even though Cosima is already draped over Delphine and isn't likely to fall back. Then, softer—so soft Cosima nearly doesn't hear it—"I will never leave you."

(Concussed Cosima swoons.)

.

.

.

"Sarah, do _not_. She's in the bloody—oh for fuck's sake!"

Cosima's eyes swim as they slowly open, a brief pinch of pain rooting her to reality when she realizes that her head, clear as it feels, also feels like it's been hit by a baseball bat. At least twice. (Cosima has experienced some dark drunken times, okay.)

"Look, she's awake!" Sarah cries, a black permanent marker bobbing into view. "Told ya this would help."

"Yes, thank you for drawing that hideous candy cane on her forehead. I'm sure Cosima appreciates it so much," Felix growls, elbowing Sarah out of the way to take Cosima's hands into his own. "Cos, how are you doing?"

"I feel like shit," Cosima croaks, and she reaches up to her face to rub at what must be her smudged eyeliner in dismay. She'd done it so _well_ , too.

"You don't look so hot, either," Sarah notes, to which Felix elbows her again for. "Oi! Watch your boney elbows!"

"Watch your insensitive _mouth_."

Beth and Art come to Cosima's side next, allowing Felix and Sarah to squabble among themselves and move away.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," greets Beth, a tentative smile on her face like she's relieved but doesn't want to show it. "You gave us all a scare."

"Have I been out long?" Cosima yawns, grateful when Art helps fix her bed into a sitting position and hands her her glasses. As she slips them on, the four of them standing around her bed become much more clear; Cosima relaxes at the sight of their dumb faces, she's that overcome with gratefulness.

"No, just about a day. Doctors said you got yourself a mild concussion," Beth reports. "Lucky you. Rachel even sent you some flowers."

"She did?"

"No," Art cuts in, "but Delphine did and said they were from her."

Cosima winces. "I forgot about Delphine."

"Oh yeah?" Beth wiggles her eyebrows, grinning. "She's been here all night. Sure didn't forget about _you_."

Cosima would blush if she didn't feel so mortified. "I—think I told her I liked her face," is all that comes out of her mouth in explanation, and she just shuts her eyes and hopes for death. That'd be easier at this point.

"Well you do, don't ya?"

"Sarah, stop making fun of her. She's in a hospital," hisses Felix.

"What? It's true."

Cosima rubs her temples and sighs. "I want coffee."

"None of that for you," Beth says, briefly squeezing Cosima's hand. "We'll get you some juice."

"And send in Delphine," Sarah offers. "She's probably asleep outside again."

Cosima feels panic surge through her very briefly. Then it comes back. And lingers. "She's really been out there all night?"

"Yeah. Helena's staying out with her 'cause it's only two in the room at a time," Sarah explains. When Cosima looks pointedly at the four of them, Sarah adds, "Obviously we didn't pay attention to that, but six people would've been real obvious."

As the four of them prepare to leave, Cosima anxiously grips Beth's hand before she can let go. She isn't sure she wants to face Delphine yet, face the devastation she's going to get when Delphine calls her out on her crush. She isn't ready to let go of her feelings, but is even less ready to prepare for the inevitable I'm-straight-but-we-can-be-friends speech Delphine's going to give.

Cosima must look pretty desperate, because Beth—no-nonsense, no frills, hardass Beth—softens. She doesn't say a word, just squeezes back a few seconds before letting go. It's an unsaid _you've got this_ and simultaneously a _we're here either way_ and it makes Cosima feel a little better as her friends walk out the door.

She closes her eyes and listens as their footsteps fade away.

A gentle knock at the door makes her open them, and Delphine is suddenly there, hair curly like she hasn't brushed it and in yesterday's clothes, her smile tentative but as breathtaking as usual.

"Hey," Cosima croaks.

"Hey."

There is a pregnant pause before Delphine pushes away from the doorway, hands crossed over her stomach as she walks to Cosima's bedside. She doesn't move to sit, though, just hovers and _looks_. Stares, really, like she's memorizing every small detail of Cosima's face as her teeth worry her bottom lip.

"You're not at work," Cosima says after a moment, when it's clear Delphine isn't about to speak.

"I couldn't leave without knowing you were safe," Delphine confesses. "I am...very sorry, Cosima. It is my fault you are here."

"Hey, no, if anything Rachel's to blame for not putting some windows on those doors," Cosima jokes, but Delphine doesn't laugh; her forehead creases again, like it'd had when Cosima had fallen.

"You scared me," she says softly, worriedly, and this time she _does_ sit, taking the chair closest to Cosima's bed. "I feared...the worst."

"It's not your fault, Delphine. I'm okay." Cosima blinks in surprise; she honestly wouldn't expect Delphine to even bat an eye over this.

Delphine hesitates. "It was an accident," she says. "I know. But I was afraid for you. If anything bad had happened..."

"Nothing did, though. It's—it's okay. Really," Cosima repeats. "My head's too hard, I think. I probably cracked the floor some."

That prompts a brief laugh, at least. "If that had happened, Rachel would have probably sent you a bill."

"She really would. It's not even a question at this point." Cosima cranes her neck to look at the mess of flowers on the counter. "Beth spilled and said you sent some flowers in Rachel's name."

Delphine blushes. "Can I, that is to say, tell you she asked me to?"

"You could, but I'd know it was a lie." Cosima grins, tongue in teeth. "Man, it looks like a garden in here. I bet you now no one's going to get me anything for Christmas; they'll just say they brought me flowers and call it a day."

"You have lots of people who care for you," Delphine observes, lips quirking into a much more genuine smile. "Alison nearly cancelled the Secret Santa revelation party for you, but Sarah insisted she needed the opportunity to fight whoever had gotten her."

"Oh shit, that." Cosima grimaces. "Any chance I didn't accidentally reveal myself to you yesterday? I'm fuzzy on the details, but I'm pretty sure I must've said some embarrassing stuff."

"You did tell me you were sending me gifts, yes," Delphine divulges. "What an odd coincidence, too, because I was your Secret Santa as well."

"...wait, _what_?"

"Yes, I know Alison wouldn't want me to be saying this," Delphine laughs, sounding more nervous than anything. "I admit I messed up quite, um, well? Your desk does not have your name on it, and Sarah's was covered by a sticker at the time...so I may have been leaving Sarah gifts this entire time."

"So Sarah's Secret Santa..."

"Was Rachel," Delphine finishes the thought. Cosima doesn't even need to ask; everyone knows that Rachel doesn't leave any gifts at all. "Sarah is still tempted to fight her of course. She just might."

"She'd kick Rachel's ass," says Cosima with a sigh, wistful because she knows it'd never happen, and then she turns and looks at Delphine. "You know something? I hated this Secret Santa thing."

Delphine's following laugh is beautiful. "No!"

"Yes! I hate it every year. It's stupid and cheap and I hate it." Cosima's cheeks are beginning to hurt from how wide she's smiling, but Delphine is laughing and the worry is gone from her face so Cosima finds she could care less. "And this year I messed up so bad with you."

At that, Delphine bites her lip again, but in amusement. "Oh, it was not so bad..."

"I gave you cookies made with salt instead of sugar."

"Mm, sure, but I left them on Aldous's desk and gave him quite the scare," Delphine says. "He thought someone was trying to poison him."

Cosima cracks up. "No way, dude! Did you really?"

"He still doesn't know it was me," Delphine admits, giggling, and her eyes soften as Cosima slumps backwards on her pillow. "Sarah was right, you know. That Aldous and I...well, we had a past."

Cosima's grin fades. She'd been expecting the part where Delphine called her out on her crush, but maybe not when they'd been having a good time. (Also, apparently Cosima had dragged Sarah through the mud with her yesterday too.) But, she reasons, perhaps it's best to get this out of the way quicker so she doesn't stop to think how pretty Delphine looks up close, and how soft and curly her unstraightened hair is, and how beautiful her laugh is...

"But it is over," Delphine hurries to add, as if Cosima's silence is bad. "It has been, for quite a while."

"Oh," says Cosima, but she really says, _and_? And then she feels like an asshole, because she really shouldn't gossiping about this. Or be considering staging a bet with Sarah that she could easily win.

"The truth is I..." Delphine trails off, gaze dropping to her lap. "I—I am not sure why I told you this." Her eyes dart up, and Cosima looks back at her carefully, something akin to _hope_ —as minuscule and weak as it was—stirs in her stomach.

"It's okay." Cosima waits a second, and do Delphine's eyes drop to her _lips_? "You can, uh, tell me anything."

Delphine doesn't say a word. Instead, she reaches right over the bed, her fingertips lingering on Cosima's jaw—a silent question, one Cosima can only nod yes to—before she brushes her lips against Cosima's. And Cosima takes in a sharp, quick breath before she kisses back and nearly melts right then and there. She knows, objectively, it should be a bad kiss. Her lips must be chapped, she must smell gross, she must be way out of practice...

But Delphine's hand, soft and warm, settles on her elbow and all Cosima can do is deepen the kiss and forget the world around her. It's easy, after all, to just sink into everything _Delphine_. Everything is soft lips and a hot tongue in her mouth and the lingering taste of hospital coffee and it's the best kiss Cosima has ever had.

Then, "What in the bloody _hell_? Keep it in your fuckin' pants!"

Cosima breaks away from Delphine's lips with a laugh, and Delphine laughs too, a faint blush painting her cheeks as her forehead drops against Cosima's. Neither of them turn to look at Sarah in the doorway, though; Cosima is much more preoccupied with the cute blonde girl halfway on the hospital bed.

"So," Cosima teases, "does this mean my awful gifts worked? If I'd known all I had to do to get a cute girl to kiss me was leave something she's allergic to on her desk, then I could've been killing the dating game ages ago."

" _Cheeky_ ," Delphine murmurs, exasperated but tender, and she leans forward to steal another kiss despite Sarah's insistent groans for them to stop already in the background.

(So that's totally a yes.)

**Author's Note:**

> why have i written 3 christmas fics. i don't even like christmas this much wtf. but anyways thanks for reading this ironic story (bc it's about secret santa when i have not finished my secret santa presents) before it's even christmas.
> 
> find me on tumblr at [djsugar](http://djsugar.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk to me about fics. or anything. gay stuff is great.


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